


who is this coming up from the wilderness

by sabinelagrande



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Bible Quotes, Cunnilingus, Gabriel Sucks (Good Omens), Local Ex-Baptist Works Out Her Feelings Through Fanfic, M/M, Shir HaShirim | Song of Songs, film at eleven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-08 03:10:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20291263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: Aziraphale is honestly just trying to read.





	who is this coming up from the wilderness

**Author's Note:**

> If you're the type of person to be offended by creative misuse of Bible verses, I don't really know why you'd be reading Good Omens fic, but also this isn't the story for you.
> 
> And if you're the type of person who gets up in arms about Biblical translations, I see you and I feel you. There was no way to win and this whole thing is probably not taking place in English, so I used the translation(s) that meant the most to me. Just remember, it could have been The Message.

Gabriel hated it.

The selection of the books of the Bible- _all_ of the Bibles- was messy and self-contradictory, and everyone agreed that She was responsible somehow but couldn't agree on who should involve themselves. There was considerable angelic debate on whether Hell was interfering, and to what degree, and how.

Lucifer had already decided that it was not his circus and, yea, not his monkeys. There was freelance demonic meddling, but not to a concerted end; if they hung around, it was to acquire the souls of the holy, not to influence a table of contents.

But Gabriel _hated_ the book that would become the Song of Songs. He hated it so much that he tried to sabotage it. The humans came up with the idea that this book of love poetry was an allegory about Israel, later the Church, possibly as a means of self defense, but Gabriel was the one there every time it got banned, every time it got denounced, every time someone tried to shake the holiness off of it.

No one asked Gabriel why this was. They didn't have to. Gabriel thought bodies were disgusting and everything related to them distasteful and distracting. Gabriel also hated anybody having a good time.1

But something, demonic, angelic, or just human, worked against his every move. Angels were not the ones supposed to be thwarted, but someone did it to Gabriel. And the kid, as they say, stayed in the picture. 

The kid stayed so thoroughly in the picture that, after Armageddon- the first attempt, anyway- an angel sat reading it on a rainy afternoon. He hadn't wanted to risk any of his good Bibles on simple reading, so this was a copy anyone might buy and read, when they felt like reading the Bible was in order.

The door to the shop opened, and it was on Aziraphale's lips to tell the person they were closed; then he remembered that the door was locked, so it could really only be one person.

"Oh, hello, Crowley," he said, moving his legs off the sofa so Crowley could join him.

"Whatever are you reading, angel?" Crowley said, obligingly dropping onto the seat next to him. "Is that a Bible?"

"Yes," Aziraphale said.

"And you're just reading it?" Crowley said, puzzled.

"There are good things in the Bible," Aziraphale said defensively.

"Ahh," Crowley said, like he'd caught Aziraphale. "So you're reading the Song of Songs, aren't you."

"If you must know, yes," Aziraphale said, just starting to get exasperated. "I like the Song of Solomon. I don't see why that needs to be a whole to do."

"You like it so much because you inspired it," Crowley said.

Aziraphale's eyes went wide, but more like he'd been caught than anything else. "I beg your pardon?"

"Did you really think I didn't know?" Crowley said. "It was obviously divinely inspired, and it's got your featherprints all over it."

"That is ridiculous," Aziraphale said.

"Come on, angel," Crowley said. "What about that whole bit where her Beloved shows up, the one thing she wants most in the world, and she's all 'but I just washed my feet'?"

"I don't see what that has to do with anything," Aziraphale said. 

"'Crowley, dear boy, we can't possibly go out, I just made cocoa,'" Crowley said, in a not-very-good imitation of Aziraphale. "'Oh, not right now, darling, I just got to the exciting part of this book.' That's you up and down."

"That's an awfully tenuous link," Aziraphale said.

"Aziraphale, we can keep going around about this, but you know that you're bested," Crowley said.

"I may have been in close proximity to King Solomon during his rule," Aziraphale said grudgingly. "He was already in the habit of writing to pass the time, and I-"

"And you," Crowley said, when Aziraphale didn't continue.

"I merely made a few suggestions," Aziraphale said. "Things regarding the subject matter he should pursue and particular turns of phrase that might convey them."

"I bet you appeared to him," Crowley said, gleeful. "White wings and all."

"I did no such thing," Aziraphale said. "I liked Solomon." He sighed wistfully. "He was such a wonderful conversationalist."

"And much more," Crowley said suggestively. 

"Oh, I was miles away from his type," Aziraphale said. "And why must you assume I slept with every historical figure I met?"

"Those are the two things Solomon is renowned for," Crowley protested. "Wisdom and concubines."

"I believe there was something about a temple," Aziraphale said, raising an eyebrow. 

"Gotta be wise to build a big fuck-off temple, don't you?" Crowley said. "And apparently to write porn for the middle of the Bible."

"There is nothing pornographic about the Song of Songs," Aziraphale said, scandalized.

"Show me another book of the Bible that talks more about tits, and I'll retract that statement," Crowley said.

"It's a love story," Aziraphale insisted. "A very beautiful one, and I'll not have you making base accusations about it."

"Either way," Crowley said. "Why'd you inspire it in the first place? You couldn't have known it would end up in the Book. It didn't work that way."

"Love is terrifying," Aziraphale said, shutting his eyes. "We say that it is Heavenly, then we send people to Hell for doing something so natural and uncontrollable the wrong way. We demand that love be shoved into a box where it doesn't fit, and we offer no alternative." He opened his eyes to find Crowley not looking at him. "I just thought that maybe if someone so wise wrote about love in such a way, people would be comforted."

Crowley picked at a loose thread on the arm of the sofa. "And here I was keeping it in just because you wrote it."

"What?" Aziraphale said, bewildered.

"And because it was _really_ pissing off someone upstairs, though I didn't know who," Crowley said.

"Gabriel," Aziraphale said, dazed.

Crowley sighed with deep, deep satisfaction. "That is delectable," he said. "But people needed to hear it, and the best of them ran with it. It became a whole thing, and eventually I wasn't alone."

"You did all that work for a Heavenly cause," Aziraphale said.

"I did it because it was right," Crowley said firmly. "You just said yourself that it wasn't particularly in line with what Heaven wanted."

"You did all that work for me," Aziraphale said, voice soft.

"Yeah," Crowley said. "Couldn't help myself, really."

"I should be clear that it wasn't about you," Aziraphale said.

"It was a little," Crowley said. "'Oh that you were like my brother, who nursed at my mother’s breasts! If I should find you outside, I would kiss you, I would not be despised.'"

"Perhaps my personal feelings did make themselves known in a few places," Aziraphale allowed, blushing just slightly. "It- it wasn't about what I had."

"It was about what you thought you couldn't," Crowley said. 

Aziraphale's breath caught, but he said nothing. What could he say to something like that?

"'O my dove,'" Crowley said, advancing on him, "'in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the cliff." Aziraphale didn't move, just staring at him in shock. "'Let me see your face, let me hear your voice." He caged Aziraphale in with his arms, but he kissed Aziraphale gently on the forehead. "'For your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely.'"

"You, um," Aziraphale said. "You've read it, I see."

"'Like a lily among thorns, so is my love,'" Crowley said, kissing Aziraphale's cheek. "'Sustain me with raisins, refresh me with apples, for I am lovesick.'"

"This feels very sacrilegious," Aziraphale said desperately.

"'How much better than wine is your love,'" Crowley said, picking open the knot of Aziraphale's bowtie and pulling it free. "'And the scent of your perfumes than all spices.'"

"Are you going to stop, or is this just happening now?" Aziraphale said, though his hands were already working on the buttons of his waistcoat.

"'Who is she who looks forth as the morning," Crowley murmured against his skin, getting Aziraphale's shirt open, "'fair as the moon, clear as the sun, awesome as an army with banners?'"

Crowley didn't say anything else for a little while, but only because his mouth was otherwise occupied, kissing down Aziraphale's chest, stopping to bite and lick at his nipples. That was good for Aziraphale, because he was blushing furiously, already panting though they'd barely even started. His hands shook as he worked on the buttons of his fly, but he got them undone, pushing his clothing down.

Crowley got the hint, stripping off the rest of Aziraphale's clothing as he dropped to his knees. "'The curves of your thighs are like jewels,'" he said, running his hands up Aziraphale's, "the work of the hands of a skillful workman.'"

"Crowley," Aziraphale sighed, too wound up to do anything else.

"'Open for me, my sister, my love, my dove, my perfect one,'" Crowley said, easing Aziraphale's knees apart. Having a cunt just seemed thematically appropriate, and Crowley made a noise of appreciation before leaning in. He stopped just shy of where Aziraphale wanted him to be, looking up at him; his eyes were clear and bright, and the look of tenderness on his face was enough to undo Aziraphale entirely. "'I have come to my garden, my sister, my wife."

Aziraphale's head tipped back as Crowley licked him, a broad pass of his tongue, touching as much of him as possible. He settled on Aziraphale's clit, sucking in exactly the way Aziraphale needed it, and Aziraphale bit down on his own knuckle to keep from shouting. 

This was all going to be over very quickly; the Bible was not supposed to get anyone this excited, but on Crowley's lips it was transcendent. Coming from a demon, it should have sounded mocking or sinful, but instead it spoke to a kind of reverence, not for Her but for love itself. It sounded, more than anything, like Crowley knew what Aziraphale had been trying to say, and it plucked at Aziraphale's heart.

Crowley slid two fingers into him, nice and easy with how wet he was, and moved them just so, stroking the right spot as his tongue worked on Aziraphale's clit. Aziraphale barely lasted any time after that, just sucked in a breath as his hips bucked towards Crowley's mouth; Crowley only moved faster, more determined than ever, and Aziraphale fell to pieces, clenching hard around his fingers in rhythmic waves. All he could think about was Crowley, his voice, the way he made Aziraphale feel warm to his very core, and he didn't want to think about anything else.

It finally tapered off, and Crowley let him go, kissing Aziraphale's thigh as he withdrew. Crowley took Aziraphale's hand in his, lacing their fingers together. "'This is my beloved, and this is my friend.'"

"I didn't know you were quite so well-versed," Aziraphale said, squeezing his hand.

"I couldn't name you twelve lines from the rest of it," Crowley said. "I just like that one because it's yours. Plus it's only eight chapters, you can miss the whole thing if you flip through too fast."

"Any longer and it would have lost some of its impact, I felt," Aziraphale said. "Solomon would have continued, but he'd already said everything he needed to say."

"He'd already said everything you needed him to say," Crowley said.

"Perhaps," Aziraphale said, not denying it.

"This is fascinating, angel mine," Crowley said, shifting uncomfortably, and Aziraphale noticed how he was filling out the front of his tight trousers. "And I've really been enjoying this and all, but perhaps, if you wouldn't mind."

"You get so polite at the oddest times," Aziraphale said fondly.

"It's your fault entirely," Crowley said. "It just seemed inappropriate to say 'Let me fuck you as hard as I can' in the context of the rest of the evening."

"'Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires,'" Aziraphale said.

"Oh, it desires," Crowley said.

"Get up here," Aziraphale said, smiling, and Crowley went.

* * *

1 Gabriel's favorite human was John Harvey Kellogg. The only food he ever ate at will was Corn Flakes. He didn't enjoy them, but that was the point. ↩


End file.
